Child Murderer (Of Men)
by DavXLau
Summary: "What if Malia was born a boy? What if (s)he didn't steal her mother's power by being born? What if (s)he was raised by Corinne, instead of being put up for adoption?" Mathieu Miguel Travers, is going to find out what being raised by a professional assassin-werecoyote would be like when he wakes up in a body too small to be his. (Semi SI/OC insert as male!Malia)
1. Prologue

Child (Murderer of Men)

**Summary: **

Have you ever wondered: "What if Malia was born a boy? What if (s)he didn't steal her mother's power by being born? What if (s)he was raised by Corinne, instead of being put up for adoption?"

Well Mathieu Miguel Travers, formerly Jacob Wilson, is going to find out what being raised by a professional asassin-werecoyote would be like when he wakes up in a body too small to be his, after having his soul "R.O.B."ed from his death-bed by**Inari Okami.** (Semi SI/OC insert as male!Malia. Possible future slash pairing)

"normal talking"

**"Special Talking / Shouting" **(Inari Okami for example)

'normal thinking'

**'Special Thinking / shouting internally' **(Inari Okami for example)

**Prologue****: Jacob Wilson (P.O.V.)**

I wake to the rythmic beeping of a heart-moniter, and the soft murmur of voices speaking in rushed whispers somewhere in the near-distance.

"...needa trans-..."

"...on't have the ri-... too late to bring... 'ut of the coma... gotta put him ba-... 'der"

"...can't jus-... -'lready waking up..."

It's hard to focus on the words, my head feels like it's splitting into two parts, from the drowsiness, both caused by my physical state and probably the multitude of drugs entering my system via the multiple drips I can half make out through my semi-conscious daze. I'm also kinda distracted by the feeling that I should be in a lot more pain than I am currently in, like my conscious mind, or at least what's currently present of it, is telling me based on what I can make out of my surroundings. Especially because two of my limbs are suspended above me in casts, and I can't see any part of my body that isn't covered in bandages.

"...Very disconcertin-... 'is body just won'-... donor organs being-... shutting down... -rge of failure..."

Ok that's not very reassuring, are _my _organs failing? Or the donor's? Are they even talking about my organs? Is there someone else in here with me? Are their organs failing?

"... If he doesn't start-..."

"Doesn't start" what? come on lady, talker louder, you're fading in and out here, I'm having trouble hearing you over my lack of consciousne- oh, I'm sleepy...

"...-'ou're only prolonging the suffering, not only for him, but for yourself as well, and-..."

Well that escalated quickly. What does he mean? Where's organ failure lady gone?

"... I don't think we can keep him going for much longer, his body just isn't accepting any of the transfusions and-..."

"He's waking up!"

Ok, I can make out my sister's voice very clearly now.

"Hey Jay, can you hear me?"

I try prying my eyelids open against the drowsiness, and it's almost like trying to single-handedly open a medieval draw bridge, you know those ones on the castles that they show in fantasy movies, like the one from "Shrek 2". I eventually manage to get them far enough apart to peer through my sleep-crusted eye-lashes to get a look at my sister Melissa.

"Ggrrnee, Mnnyooue grlook eykke ahh wwrgkgrk"

Nope. Voice box currently not functional. Abort. Abort. Mission: "Greet Sister" is a failure, return to base.

She's teary eyed, her eyes are puffy and red enough, with bags big enough that I can make them out clearly, even with my brain addled in a drug-induced stuper, that I can't even words... Her hair is greasy, up in a messy bun, and if I'm noticing it now, then it must look at least ten times worse than my brain can register, but she'll still always be pretty and beautiful, cause she's my little sister and I've lost track of my mouth cause now Mel is giving my face wierd looks. Haha, Mel is looking funny-sad now, but she's still Sooooo Preeeeetty, and I'll always love her cause she's my sister. My little sister. And my brain is saying things but my mouth can stop now. I don't like how sad-concerned her laugh is.

"Just *hic* how many drugs have you pumped into his system?" Mel asks the attending doctor. She's still giving me a teary-eyed look of concern. I don't like it when Mel gets worried, it's my job to worry about her. Her face is crying even more now, I don't understand. I'm only a mummy, it's fine Mel, you shouldn't have to worry about me, I still have to look after you.

"Mmrnroon thzee goodss sstuff" I slur out, which only results in Mel laughing, but also kinda choking over her tears and stuffy nose. Oh no, my little sister is leaky from her nose, it's not like a bat in the cave though. It's like all of them are leaving to hunt bugs and probably other things at night.

Mel just gives me a long-suffering smile-cringe, then turns to the doctor with her raised sassy brow. Her eyebrows, and mine now that I think of it, are like a second language, because my mums side of the tree of family gene things... and I've lost track cause Mel is still crying. Don't be sad Mel, I'm sure you can keep him going, whoever the guy with the failing organs is.

"Oh, Jay..." now she can't look at me anymore and she's wiping her face. Don't do that Mel, you might smudge your- oh, you're not wearing any makeup today.

The doctor leans over to my sister and he's speaking to her in rapid hushed whispers. Why can't i hear the secrets too? I like keeping secrets, I'm good at it, really! I don't have anyone but Mel to tell my secrets now that Brayden is- nope, no talking about my big brother, stop thinking brain, I don't want to cry too, especially in front of my baby sister, she's seen it too much already.

Aaand the doctor and Mel are looking at me sadly. He leans back over to her, and this time I can just make out what he's saying.

"I don't think we can put him under again, at this stage half his organs are on the brink of shutting down, his body hasn't accepted any of the treatments, and all the donor organs have shut down or been rejected by his body. He most likely will not be able come back up again" The doctor has to raise his hand to cut Mel off from protesting before he can finish, and she doesn't look happy about it, but she allows him to continue, now not even bothering to try to stem the tears flowing freely down her face, "I strongly recommend saying your good-byes over the next few hours, perhaps days if we're lucky, at this rate we can't give him more than a couple weeks, if his mind can hold on that long, before... well..." he looks truly sorry for having to tell my sister this news, "It's ultimately your decision for when we pull the plug, unless a miracle happens. If you wish to spend his last hours, maybe days, here with him, I'll tell the staff not to disturb you, but he doesn't have long."

Aww, he had to make Mel sad agian. Don't worry Mel, I'll cheer you up, I can make you happy, we can... Umm, what is there for me to- ooh!

They have a TV Mel...

And it took me this long to notice -*mental face-palm*- on account of not having control of my limbs at the moment.

We can watch that together, Mel and I always used to Netflix and chill when one of us was feeling down or upset. I wonder what Mel would like to watch, it was her turn to choose this time. We'd finished off "Bates Motel" last time it was my turn to choose. And she still hasn't finished watching the last season on "Teen Wolf". All we know is that the first episode shows Stiles doing a spit-take when the FBI academy teacher shows his class a video of shirtless-Derek running in the woods with the only context being "crazed cerial killer on the run". I think the spit-take was mostly because Stiles hadn't seen Derek shirtless in a while, and he wasn't expecting him to ever show up in his FBI academy. I mean, I always knew that they would pair him off with Lydia eventually, cause they had to keep the trope alive, the whole nerd gets hot popular girl / guy that (s)he's been "crushing on" for ages is a pretty standard romantic pairing in fiction, and it lets the under-dog come out with a win. They also probably weren't bold enough to make a key character end up with the "Dark-Broody-Single-Hot-Muscly-Guy", when they could leave him nice and available for all the psychotic- I mean 'dedicated fangirls'- imaginations.

Cause if he doesn't have a relationship with anyone in the show, then the fangirls can fantasize about them being the lucky one to get the hot guy, and write all the explicit-rated fanfiction their deprived little brains can think up. And you can bet on their deprived little minds being able to fantasize some damn dirty fiction. Like, not even the 'Adult-Entertainment' industry companies would have the rights to show some of the stuff fangirls are able to conjure up.

Honestly speaking, the first two seasons convinced me that Sterek was the most convincing relationship in the entire show as far as reciprocated feelings and chemistry between charcaters is concerned. Stydia seemed a bit forced through circumstances. I mean, her finally realising what an amazing character Stiles is by season 6 makes sense, so I can't blame all those people that held out hope since the biginning, but I felt like it was forced because of the trope and fangirl expectations. Then there's Scott, who got worse and worse as a character as the seasons went on. He started great, he was a literal puppy, but none of his relationships he had, other than the friendship he had with Stiles, were convincing, or organic -like, at all- and even then, he started to ruin that relationship in Season 2, and then he basically ruined it in season 5.

"Did you wanna finish it with me, Jay?" Mel interupts my train of thought with her question. Huh, I wonder what train my thoughts are... probably "Puffing-Billy", definitely not "Thomas the Tank", he's a "tank engine", not a train. And definitely not "Diesel" either, even as a kid I noticed he was an ass-face. Every episode he was in he was getting told off by the fat controller, like the old X-Box controllers, but a person. Anyway he was jealous of Thomas all the time and he ruined all the jobs he had to do. And anyway, diesel is a type of fuel, not a train... hm. I lost my train again.

"Don't worry Jay, you're definitely not a "Deisel" person, your thought train can be Puffing-Billy." She's still crying, but now she's got a happy-sad smile, we can get rid of the sad, we can just wipe her sad tears away, and leave her smile just a happy one.

Mel walks around the bed to where my neck can't crane around so I can see her, but a second later I hear that soft "sshhhrrk" sound that tissues make wen you pull them out of the tissue box, and then she walks back into my range of sight, wiping her eyes and cheeks with the tissue.

"see, sad tears all gone, now it's just *sniff* happy." Her eyes still look shiny with excess moisture, but her face is clear of the tear-tracks that were marking her face not five seconds ago, and she's giving me an indulgent smile, even if her lips look like they're struggling to stay up, being all wobbly like that.

"So were you serious about wanting to finish off the series with me Jay?" Why's she asking me that? I chose last time, it's her turn to choose what Netflix we chill too, even if I might not have time to take my turn picking for next time. I never minded watching this show with her, Scott is a literal puppy before he starts to leave Stiles alone, and Dylan O'brien is nearly as "bae" as Tom Holland, although that's impossible because he's sweeter than all the cinnamon buns in all the bakeries. He does a good job at describing how we all feel during horror movies... except for the first episode, but he learns his lesson about going into the woods alone after he gets threatend by literally everyone.

"Yeah, he does learn his lesson doesn't he?" Mel's smiling at me with that happy-sad smile again. Damnit brain, stop exporting all my thoughts, I'm gonna have to start paying thought taxes, and I already struggle understanding normal taxes. GST is still a tax right?

"Yeah Jay, GST is a tax, but don't worry, I won't charge you thought taxes, your thought trains can always export thoughts for free around me." She's laughing at me now, I can tell by the way her shoulders are jumping, they can't hide when they jump up and down.

"Are you gonna put it on now? Or are your shoulders doing to much jumping?" I snipe at her (the drugs are _**really**_ good, I can't come up with anything better, ok? Don't judge my poor brain)

"Yeah we can put it on, I'll just get the remote, ok?" with my nod of approval she leaves to get the remote, and i sit back, not that I had been sitting up, and start to drift off to sleep while I wait.

I wake up to a dark, empty hosptial room. Hm, they must've decided to let me sleep, and why am I suddenly coherent enough to notice that there is no more beeping from the heart-moniter-vitals-observation-machine that I've never known the technical term for? It appears that most of the machines in my room have been switched off as well, the clock being one of the only electrical appliance still visibly displaying that it has any power, reading 03:00am. I'm no longer covered in bandages or casts, even the expected awkward hopsital gown is vacant from my body, now that I'm noticing things, instead I'm wearing my usual long-sleeved tee and my favourite cuffed-denim joggers (they're like normal jeans, but the ends are closed around my ankles to stop cold wind blowing up my legs), I guess they changed me after Mel left, while I was still unconscious, probably sleeping off the -most likely insane amount of- drugs.

Wait, how long have I been asleep that I no longer need the casts? Why would they disconnect the machines if I was still asleep just a little while ago?

Ok, something is seriously not right here. I reach over to push the button by the bed to call a nurse that's still on shift, but nothing happens.

And now I'm really starting to worry that something is definitely not right. I brace myself for the pain that should be there from moving after laying down for so long, and slowly start sitting up, but nothing happens other than my body elevating to an up-right position. Nothing is feeling sore, not even feeling a little lethargic.. even though I **know** that my muscles should have atrophied to basically nothing by now, but my body is feeling as good as if I hadn't spent the past however many months in the hospital.

I throw caution to the wind and stand up after sliding off the edge of my bed, and I'm still not feeling any stiffness or pain from the movement. I've got to stop myself from thinking about my sudden miracle recovery and find out what happened, otherwise I'll just descend into a panic attack from realising that _**SOMETHING IS SERIOUSLY WRONG, I SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO WALK LIKE THIS YET!**_

Ok, focus, the nurses desk shouldn't be too hard to find, they'll have signs pointing to it and it shouldn't be too far down the hall to the right, just by the elevators about fifty meters away. I'll see Jannet, the scary admin lady from the last time I was "visiting" the hospital, the one with the mole on her nose the size of a tic-tac that is really hard not to stare at.

Just as I'm about to start my trek to the outside of my rrom and the greater beyond to find out what happened, the door swings open and a doctor, with flowing blonde hair down to her(?) mid-back, walks in. She doesn't look at all surprised to see me standing by myself.

"Ah, it's time for you to check out now Mr..."

She starts flicking through her list... wait a second, I could swear she wasn't holding before!

"Yes I was, Mr... Babadadada... ah-hah, Mr. Wilson, you just didn't notice, and... hm." She starts scrutinising the contents of her Magically-Appearing-List now with a face of intense confusion.

"This is weird, it doesn't say whether..." she is about to say something important, but she's interrupted by a man that walks in.

"It's ok Shelly, I'll take it from here." He sends a cheeky smirk at her as he passes, stalking towards me. "Shelly" doesn't take too kindly to being dismissed though.

"Wha-uh, wait, Mr. Inari, you're not supposed to be in here..." she sputters out, slowly tapering off when he just looks back at her over his shoulder.

"I think the old guy next door just woke up Shelly, maybe you should go help him out, I'll take care of Mr. Wilson here." It's as clear a dismissal as he could give without explicitly telling her to "bugger off", and she only hesitates for a second before deciding that she would be better off just leaving it to someone clearly above her pay-grade. Just who is this guy, this "Mr. Inari". He looks vaguely like he could be in his 20's, possibly a young-looking 30's, and a blink later he's got the laugh-lines of someone in their 40's, before he's back to his young-look again. He could possibly be of Asian descent, but his one structure is just vague enough that he could be a multitude of different ethnicities.

And my attention is then brought to his hair, a bright orange, almost red colour, that could be compared to the glowing light of a campfire, or the colour of the sky just as the sun is dissappearing below the horizon. I don't know how I didn't notice it before when now that I've noticed it, it is such an attention-grabbing colour that it may as well have it's own gravity, cause my gaze is constantly being drawn back to it. It's done up in a traditional style that I wouldn't be able to name at gun point, that looks like a sophisticated version of those top-knot / bun things from Mulan, but more extravigant. Even up in the complex-messy-yet-neat-bun-thing, I could tell he had a lot of hair by the fact that it still came down to almost his waist. He could almlost be called androgynous if he let his hair down. Anyway, I've lost track of what's happening due to being distracted by his hair.

"Done checking me out yet?" He's smirking at me, his face in a foxy-looking grin at having called me out on staring at him.

"Whurr-uh, no-ugh, ah, yes. Sorry." And I'm blushing, which just makes him smirk wider at me.

"I don't mind, it's good to know the effort isn't wasted"

Aaaannd cue the second blushing, sputtering mess that I've become in as many minutes.

"Anyway, I'm here to see what you're up to. If you'd like to lay back down on the bed for me so I can give you a final look over before deciding what we're gonna do with you", before I can collect myself I'm being ushered back to the bed and lying down at his insistance, "So Let's see, before you were going to sleep last, you were about to start the final season of Teen Wolf with your sister, Mel, right?" and now he's asking questions from the other side of the bed to the side he was standing on just a second ago.

With a pen and clip-board that has seemed to appear out of thin air. Again. Seriously, where do they keep them? What is with these doctors and the mysteriously appearing stationary?

"I'm sure I have no idea about what you're talking about Jacob." He says this while pulling another clip-board from out of nowhere and stacking it on top of the one he was already holding, grinning triumphantly the whole time.  
Ok, my brain can't even right now, just ignore it.

"Umm, yeah, we were about to, and how does this concern my health at all any-" before I could continue along a reasonable line of questioning he cuts me off.

"That's a shame you fell asleep before you could watch the ending, would you like to finish it?"

"Well, sure. I mean I was going to watch it with Mel, but I'm sure she's already seen it by now, and how's this got anything to do-"

He just carries on over the top of me again.

"So I take it you are interested in the supernatural?"  
He's taking notes so fast I'm sure thay can't be legible, just finishing up the page as I go to answer. He holds up a hand, making me pause for long enough to reach into his coat, that looks like it has a lot more layers than a typical lab coat should, now that I'm noticing the bizareness of his clothes. Checking out his "coat" now, I'm noticing it looks more like a traditional Kimono than a labcoat, the only similarities being that it's a clinical bright white colour. It has an Obi, with the thin cord tied around it, and the sleeves are wide enough to fit six more pairs of arms in them comfortably. And now that I'm pulling my attention away from him a second time -seriously, it's messing with my head how distracted I'm getting by this "doctor"- I miss exactly where he pulls yet another clipboard from.

...

'Just don't think about the clipboards. Don't question it, it's not worth your sanity' I chant to myself in my head.

"So supernatural things, interested?" he broke my stream of internal chanting.

"Uhhh, y-yeah I guess I-" I manage to stutter out.

"Good, good. How close are you with your father? Have you ever wanted a close paternal bond, or are you a "Mumma's boy'?"

"Umm, not really close, I had an older brother that I looked up to, and umm, I had a good relationship with my landlord and roommates I guess. I suppose I had a decent relationship with my mum, but I wouldn't call myself a-"

"Ha, this is perfect! You'll fit right in. The only difference is that you're a guy, but I'll work something out, shouldn't be too hard to work something out."  
With that said he slams down all six- 'Wait, **SIX?** hold up, where did they even- don't. Stop. Don't. Even. Attempt. To. Make. Sense. Of. This. Rediculousness!'  
"By the way, how do you feel about M&Ms? do you like them?" He is looking at me with such an intense look of attentiveness that really shouldn't be associated with a question like this, that I'm starting to wonder if there is a hidden meaning to everything he's been asking so far in this "check-up". And because 'Why not', my brain zeroes in on his bright amber-coloured eyes, that are still staring at me as if what I might answer could unlock the knowledge of the meaning of life.

"I mean, if you put them in front of me, I'm not going to _not_ eat them."

"Perfect, you're really selling yourself for the role here, I'm not sure you could fit in any better. Just one last question; are you set on remaining a male, like, are you attached to the concept of being a male, or would you not care either way?"

*PHFFfffttt*

'HUH?!'

"WH-WHAT?! Of course I want to stay a male, what do you mean "Am I atached to my gender"? I very greatly insist on staying a male and keeping "attached" to my "Gender" for the foreseeable future! And what do you mean by "you'll fit right in"? Fit right in where? How do any of these questions pertai to my health? And I thought I was getting released?" My head can't keep up with this line of sporadic questioning and exclamations.

He seems to realise something that I'm obviously not clued in on, because his expression changed from the light-cheeky-happy-smugness into a more considerate, almost pitying, expression.

"You haven't realised it yet, have you?" I pause at the seriousness of his face. This question, said in that grave a tone, by a man that not five seconds ago, looked like he was the cat that caught the cream-topped, extra-fat canary, whom is now pulling such a sobering expression, causes my mind to back up, and really start considering the how-ever-long I've been awake. I look back over at the clock sitting on the bedside table, and everything comes to a grinding halt.

...

It still reads 03:00am. And it isn't flashing to indicate the passing of seconds.

...

It still hasn't changed from 03:00am. Witching hour. The time of night most known and associated with supernatural events.

...

It's because of this that it all starts to hit me.

_"I strongly recommend saying your good-byes over the next few hours..."_

The utter silence that has been the main cause of my sub-conscious discomfort.

_"...-'ou're only prolonging the suffering, not only for him, but for yourself as well, and-..." _

The lack of other people bustling around, sure, it's 03:00am, but it's the busiest hospital in Melbourne, it's never quiet here, especially at night when the noise should be more noticeable.

_"... I don't think we can keep him going for much longer, his body just isn't accepting any of the transfusions and-..."_

The fact I woke up in the clothes I was wearing the last time I was conscious before landing myself in the hospital.

_"I don't think we can put him under again..."_

The complete lack of any of the sensations that go along with what I'm guessing would have to be at least six months worth of muscle atrophy.

_"...at this stage half his organs are on the brink of shutting down..."_

The fact the nurse didn't recognise who I was, especially considering how long I had to have been here.

_"...his body hasn't accepted any of the treatments, and all the donor organs have shut down or been rejected by his body..."_

The lack of any identifying markers or emblems on her uniform to denote who she is or where she's stationed.

_"...__at this rate we can't give him more than a couple weeks, if his mind can hold on that long, before... well..." _

The fact the nurse deferred to someone who didn't look like he should be in any hospital in this, or the previous, century.

_"...He most likely will not be able come back up again"_

And finally, the most important of all realisations. The thing that should have clued me in immediately that something wasn't right.

**THE MAGICAL APPEARING-OUT-OF-F %$ING-NOWHERE CLIPBOARDS!**

**...**

"I'm not alive any more. Am I?"

His silence just confirms it for me. It was only when I was about to start my mental spiral into nothing that Inari started talking.

"No Jacob, you're no longer among the living, well, at least in the mortal sense anywho..." he waited until I processed his words, before suddenly his whole demeaner changed back to how it was before. "But now that you're fully aware of that fact we can continue. Whilst you might not be technically "alive", pssht, and who needs a life anyway? You also aren't technically "dead" yet either, that's the great part of Limbo, time doesn't pass here, but it never stays still either, perfectly confusing right? It's the between Life-and-Death state, kinda like how the Quantum Realm works, not that they explain any of that in Ant-man anyway, _**just lazy script writing if you ask me**_" Inari rants in fervant whispers for a few seconds before coming back to what he was saying, "Anyway I pass through here every now and then when I get bored from playing with the lives of the people in my dimensions-"  
"Wait, Hold up, what do you-"  
"Ssshhh, don't worry about it. As I was saying before you so _rudely_ interrupted my expositional rant, I've decided that you are my next playthi-, **I mean** client, in need of some excitement. 'Cause honestly, getting into a high-speed, ten car pile-up is the most interesting thing you experienced in your dreary, sad, honestly heart wrenchingly miserable, sorry life. And you weren't even conscious for it after the first impact. Then to make it worse, you didn't even survive long enough to watch it on Youtube. Man, that is just sad, it was possibly one of the greatest car accidents I've seen in the last three dimensions I've visited and you didn't evendie in the crash. You died six months after the crash in the hospital. You currently rank at #8 of the most boring / depressing lives I've seen, and that's including people who lived in previous centuries. So I'm granting you a second life full of excitement. Almost free of charge too, how lucky are you?!"

"..."

"...Well?"

"..." I didn't know how to respond to this.

Before I could begin to process this new "Exitential-crisis-level" amount of information, he suddenly had a hand on my forehead, easing me down to the point where the back of my head was comfortably situated on the fluffed-up pillow.

"Now, I know that you must be overwhelmed by my generosity, but don't worry, I'll be watching the whole time, so I can recieve my payment in full, gloriously embarrassing, detail without missing a second. Except when you're sleeping, that's boring." He was exuding a comforting aura, that didn't match up at all with the feeling my brain was trying to tell me I was meant to be feeling based on the content of what he was saying. Even with my mind saying I should be flipping my -maybe not so- metaphorical _**S#$%**_, I was starting to drift off to "sleep".

"Waiit, whuut do ya' men b' paymen'?" Even as I asked the question I knew I was fading too quickly to hear an answer that would satisfy the multitude of burning questions in my head, but I had to ask anyway.

"Ssshhhh, I'll tell you later, ok Jay?" well, ok, I guess he can tell me later. As I drift off I notice that the "hand" that was against my forehead felt a lot softer than a humans hand would typically feel, and as my eyes fluttered shut, I couldv'e sworn I saw several fuzzy apendages -tails maybe?- behind Inari, as well as what could only be fox ears growing from his head.

Hmm...

_Inari, Inari, Inari..._

_That's a funny name... Inari..._

_It feels familiar though. Why does it ring the warning beels in the back of my head?_

_Inari... Foxy guy that Dr. Ina-_

_..._

_Inari..._

_OHHHhhh... _

_Inari Okami..._

_..._

_..._

_..._

_**HOLY-F$ %# G-S&^%-C &-F#!%**_

**A/N****: Hey guys, so... Very. First. Story. Uploaded. Ever.**

**This is going to be a fairly long one, Part 1 of this story will be all the events leading up to the opening of Season 1, and from the amount I plan on cramming into that 15 years and six months time frame -at least in my planning notes- it'll take me a while to type all the ideas up... This is the first of three different Fanfics that I've started on, I will also be uploading the first chapter some time within the next week, but after that I'll be alternating between which story I upload the next chapter for (depending on my friend's availability, cause I am going through the fight scenes of my other fic by roleplaying each one on a case-by-case basis in person with multiple people).**

**Anyway, please feel free to comment on your initial impression, the pacing (whether it feels too fast or slow), and just general feedback.**

**Thankyou to all the readers who actually made it this far down the page... props to you guys for getting through that much sub-par writing, but I hope to improve over time, so constructive criticism is not only warranted, but encouraged : )**

**Ciao.**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Chapter Summary****:**

Giving Birth in a veterinary clinic isn't exactly ideal, but considering the alternative was the possible exposure of the supernatural to the public, it could have been much worse.

Then again, Corinne can't say she wouldn't consider the possible exposure. She might regret not risking it, when she has to give birth while a nervous alpha, who just so happens to be the sister of the damn teenager that got her pregnant, hovers over her every action and word.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the character Jacob Wilson and a select handfull of OCs that wil appear in later chapters. Teen Wolf is the property of Jeff Davis and HBO / MTV / Stan(?) - I don't know where else you can watch it, but they obviously have some of the rights... and I don't, so I'm gonna assume they own it for now. All I know is **I DON'T OWN IT**!

"normal talking"

**"Special Talking / Shouting" **(Inari Okami, for example)

'normal thinking'

**'Special Thinking / shouting internally' **(Inari Okami for example)

**Mathieu Miguel Travers****: 3rd Person (P.O.V.)**

**Beacon Hills Veterinary Clinic - November 28, 1996 13:27 **

"Ok Corinne, the baby's crowning. Just another push coming along soon, alright? You're nearly done. Just one more alright? I need you to take a big, deep breath, that's right, hold it. And blow it out" Talia Hale instructed, "That's good, now focus, I need you to slowly inhale through the nose, and exhale through your mouth."

"I read the textbooks of-" Corinne snarled through clenched teeth, her eyes flashing blue, "... Breathing excercises for... grrhhll... Hahh... hah, giving _birth _**Hale**", huffing for breath whilst trying to regain her equilibrium.

"Well if you would just stop snarling and snapping at everything, and instead just focus on breathing, we could be through this whole ordeal in the next five minutes" Talia coolly replied, not losing a shred of the regal dignitiy she held herself up with. Especially in the face of this abrasive upstart-of-an-assassin that had managed to unwittingly fall for Peter's charms, whilst simultaneously beguiling him with her confident self-assurance and her sharp wit.

She -as well as most, if not **all** of her pack- was aware of Peter's habit of quickly becoming obsessed with every little object, or person that managed to capture his interest. Quite often, it was to the point that he would drop almost everything he was doing at the time to focus the entirety of his attention on that one thing until he'd worked out every facet, looked at every angle, and analysed all the different behaviours of that one thing. He was honestly like a toddler at times, always going after the next new, shiny thing that registered on his radar. Certain things would last longer than others, depending on whether the 'puzzle' was complex enough to hold his attention for an extented span of time. Talia was honestly surprised, and somewhat annoyed, that her little brother had found this particular 'puzzle' interesting enough to fully explore her '_personality_'. Urgh.

'Honestly, why couldn't he stop at her coarse exterior and just move onto something else. He didn't need to see if he could uncover every facet of her "deeper personality", .' She internally groaned.

"Oh, get off your- hrgk... High horse. You would be going _rabid_ if your '_Alpha-Spark'_ was going to be leached out of you as soon you-."  
Corinne cut off with a sharp intake of breath, drawing the attention of , who, up until that point had been quietly waiting and monitoring the delivery of the as-of-yet to be born infant.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"Talia asked. She was scrutinising Corinne's face and body language in obvious wariness, wondering why she had cut off so suddenly.

"Is something wrong Corinne?"

Whilst he was still human, Alan Deaton didn't exactly need supernatural senses to pick up on the escalating tension in Corinne's body, or the increase in wariness from Talia. He wasn't expecting the question that came from Corinnn though.

"Deaton. When a were-coyote gives birth and their power is transferred to the new born child, is it meant to happen gradually, from the start of the pregnancy, or is it a sudden thing that happens all at once when their connection is severed from the mother at the time of birth?" It was said with such monotone, that if he wasn't watching her face, he would have missed the growing panic in her eyes.

Her eyes that were a bright, near luminescent, blue.

He didn't have the time to answer before Talia suddenly wasn't seated where she was a second before. All Alan percieved was a blur of movement, that couldn't have lasted more tan a tenth of a second, before she was suddenly reappearing with her head positioned over the prone were-coyote's abdomin, listening intently.

Alan blinked before focusing once again on Corinne, "the process of the transfer should have been almost completely over by now, if that's what you were meaning to ask. The child's body usually starts siphoning off the mother's power before or during the second trimester so it can adjust. If the transfer happened all at once during the birth it would cause the baby's body to goes into shock, resulting in, if not severe harm, then almost certain death to not only the mother, but especially the baby. If that happened, I would be very surprised if the child survived the following seventy-two hours."

Talia's face had remained inscrutible until the end of his explanation, suddenly going ashen.

"I thought that it would all happen during the birth" Corinne was looking very confused now, less so at what they said, and more to do with something neither of them were aware of, "I had bouts of sickness at the start, and I generally had less energy than I could usually expect to have, but I just attributed that to being pregnant."

Deaton relaxes at the explanation, "then it appears this might just be a misunderstanding, Talia" he turns to the alpha, "how is the baby's heartbeat sounding?"

Her head was still hovering over Corinne's abdomin, face slowly becoming more relaxed as she monitored the rythmic beating of the unborn baby's pulse with her supernatural level hearing.

"It's... it's still going steady. It isn't as fast as Cora's when she was being born, but that might just be becasue Cora was born a wolf. It isn't quite as fast as I would expect for a regular baby either, but it's still well within a healthy bpm for a baby this age."  
Just as she finished speaking, Corinne let out another barely muffled groan through clenched teeth.

"We'll just have to see what happens, though I suspect you and your child will be just fine, Corinne" Deaton had settled back into his trademarked 'cryptic smile', "Now, Talia, let's deliver a baby."

**-20 Minutes Later-**

The Veterinary clinic operation room - turned temporary delivery room - was filled with the sound of heavy labored breathing from a recently pregnant were-coyote and the load crying and keening of a new-born baby.

"Corinne, Talia, may I introduce you to your respective son and nephew" Deaton announced from the end of the operating table, as he finished wiping down and swaddling the baby boy into a clean, white towel. He stepped around the edge of the table to place the baby into his mother's arms and stepped back to give them space.

"I must admit, that while I am surprised it is a boy, after hearing the details of your term, I had a suspicion that we had misinterpreted the gender of the child."

"Why would that have mattered though? Would there have been a difference if the baby was a girl?" Talia inquired from the other side of the make-shift bed, looking up from the sight of her new-born nephew.

"Well, typically, it's the female offspring of a werecoyote that 'inherits'-" Corinne growled, "or '_steals_' the power from the mother. I suspect so that there is only one active generation of 'carrier' per line, or family, of were-coyote. Just as it would have happened when you were born and '_inherited' _your mother's 'spark', as it were, Corinne" Deaton explained, as he started collecting an assortment of medical tests and paperwork from his desk, before making his way back towards the mother and son. "To some degree it makes sense that your 'spark' wouldn't carry over to a boy in your 'line of succession', coyotes are fairly well known to be reclusive animals that, while flexible in social organisation, don't necessarily prefer to have particularly large packs. They usually prefer to be in small close-knit family units, or loosely-knit packs with other unrelated coyotes. It allows them to move around territories more easily, which is especially useful in recent generations as humans are the main threat to their continued existence."

Deaton stopped to look down and make eye contact with Corinne before continuing. "Now I'm no expert on were-coyotes, but I expect that like werewolves, you're instincts, and certain characteristics of your kind, are at least somewhat similar to that of your non-were counterparts, and it might just be that your 'inner coyote', as it were, didn't feel the need to impart a portion of your power to a male offspring, but this is all just speculation and educated guessing on my part." He paused while putting down the paperwork on the desk dirrectly opposite the operation table, before turning back to Corinne, "Now, I just need to do a few tests to see if he inherited anything from his father's side of the family, before giving him a blood test and general check-up." With that he pulled out a small cylindrical device with a removable tip on the end. "I'll start with a blood-spot test to send with you when you go for check-up at the hospital, then-"

"Why would I need to go to the hospital?" Corinne cut in, "wasn't that the point of coming here, so as to avoid the risk of exposure to the public, or authorities?"

Before Deaton could reply, Talia answered, "The point of coming here for the delivery was for that exact purpose. Don't get us wrong Corinne, we are all in agreement that it would have been too great a risk of exposure for you, or me, or anyone else for that matter, to deliver a child of even _remotely _supernatural 'heritage', in front of a group of unaware human doctors and nurses. Not even I have absolute control over myself to fully supress the change whilst in the middle of giving birth to a child. Granted, it got easier each time, as I had practice, but even during my third pregnancy, at the very least my eyes would shift. And it's not exactly good for the birhting process, as the mother, or for the child, when all your concentration is going into controlling your shift, instead of giving birth."

"Then why do I have to go to the hospital for a check-up?" She had deflated from her earlier indignation, now she just looked exhausted and slightly annoyed at the prospect of having to go to a hospital. Talia didn't think it was a sight that she would ever get used to; the sight of her nephew's mother holding him to her chest whilst sitting on a make-shift bed, all while having fallen asleep to the sound of their conversation.

She smiled at the image of her sleeping nephew in the arms of a some-what relaxed Corinne, before answering, "even I had to go get a check-up after doing a 'home delivery', it's normal. It's mostly just for them to ensure there weren't any serious complications, and to hand in the paperwork to get a birth certificate for my child after each of them had been born." She assured her. Talia paused to consider something before asking tentatively, "Do you know what you're going to-... Have you decided who you're going to put as the father? You can leave it as 'undetermined' if you aren't sure..." she trailed off.

Corinne just sat in silence, staring at her son in thought, her face the mask of pensive concentration.

Deaton was listening in silence as he continued going through the necessary tests, filling in all the needed forms to be delivered to the hospital. Although he was a veterinarian, he maintained the necessary licences for child delivery, and emergency first aid, for the express purpose of being equipped to perform his tasks as a pack emissary for the Hales.

"I don't know if that would be a good idea, having his name on any official documents. He will eventually stumble across them if his name is attached to the forms." Corinne took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled before continuing, "and as much as it _might_ appease a small - and I do mean _small_ \- part of my instincts, I won't ever be able to fully relax, especially in a 'den', as you call that mansion of a 'family home' of yours, with so many wolves and humans around." She paused to make eye contact with Talia. "Frankly speaking, it's not worth the high levels of long-term stress that staying in one place for so long will cause. And that level of commitment really can't be justified for what amounted to a slightly longer than average 'summer fling' with a college freshman. I mean... surely you understand my reservations about shacking up with a, what is he, 19 year old?"

Talia just stood there, with her face slowly scrunching up into a mix of reluctance, apprehension and admission - with a hint of indignation - for her brother. Which Corinne immediately, and expertly, identified and distinguished from the emotions coming across from the perturbing scent of the alpha.

"From your expression, I'm guessing that you want some further explanation, not that I feel like I'm necessarily obligated to give it to you." said the new mother, smirking at the evidence of her ability to grate on the usually impeccably calm alpha's nerves showing itself on the afore-mentioned alpha's face.

"Despite his recent actions - and _mistakes_ \- he is my brother, and soon to be the right-hand enforcer of my pack, so _yes,_ that would be _greatly_ appreciated" Talia replied, pulling what could possibly be the most sterm expression Corinne had been on the recieving end of, that she remember. Probably because the person giving it was an unholy combination of pissed-off-sister, mother _and_ alpha. But she wasn't one to cower in the face of parental, hierarchial, or any other type of authoritorial presence.

Even if she was mildly intimidated.

She let out a sigh before backtracking. It didn't matter that she was quite confident in her own abilities, she was well aware that it wasn't exactly the wisest thing for her own self preservation to directly insult a beta, right in front of their alpha - especially if that beta was a direct relative of the alpha - without at least a little bit of justification, even if she had rather _**intimate**_ knowledge of the insulted.  
"Ok, I don't have to say it, but he does deserve at least a bit of credit. Yes, he is a lot more mature than basically anyone else his own age - heck even people five years his senior - and he's definitely not an idiot. For his age he's far above average intellectually, and **physically,**" she pauses to wink at Talia's expression of disgust, but continues at Deaton's deadpan expression, "but answer me this, and _please_ be as **objective** as possible," she pauses again to convey the seriousness of her next words to Talia, "Do you think that, _right now_, even with his level of intellect and maturity, that he is even remotely ready for the responsibilty of father-hood with his amount of experience, his age, or his current situation with college? Would he have the availability or commitment to be a good enough father for **my** son, or **your** nephew?"

" Ye-"

"Ah ah ah, think about it properly. I will only accept your answer when you've fully considered everything that's at stake with my situation, and had a nice, long, hard, think about your brother baring the responsibility of caring for a **life **that would be completely and utterly dependent on him."

Talia's twisted expression of indignance at being cut off changed to a more apprehensive look. She slowly walked out of the room, and Corinne could just bearly hear her pacing up and down the length of the veterinary clinic's entryway from where she was laying down.

"I've filled out what i could of your paperwork. I left the 'father's' details blank, but if you should choose to have Peter Hale's name on the birth certificate, then you will need to have him fill in his details and sign here," at 'here' he pointed at the alotted place for the 'father's' signature, "You will also need to get another doctor's signature to go along with mine in the 'attendents' section. If you ask after one of the head nurses or doctors, or an available nurse from the maternity ward, then they should be able to oblige you with that second signature when they do a cursory check over the baby when you go for your - and his - 'post-birth' check-up." He was explaining all this while filling a manila folder with the paperwork, but he left out a couple of forms. "Now, other than the problem of deciding between Peter Hale or John Doe, there's only one more decision that needs to be made before I leave you to rest for the night."

Corinne waited a full ten seconds, not comprehending what he was getting at, staring at his ever-present 'Cryptic-Deaton-Smirk'™ before losing patience and prompting him to continue with an, "Oh?"

He just kept his expression and gestured at the baby, "you might like to choose a name for your son? Unless you would like to call him John Doe Junior?"

She made a sound of surprised realisation at having forgotten about naming the quiet, almost ignorable bundle of baby swaddled in her arms.

"I didn't exactly have many boy names picked out at all, and none of the girl names I'd contemplated on can really be used." Corinne made a thoughtful expression, "If I was to use a name from my family's background, all that really comes to mind is Mathieu."

Deaton went to write it down and paused over the form, looking back up at her, "did you have, or did you want him, to have a middle name? You can forgo it, and just have a given and surname."

"Miguel."

Before Corinne could answer, Talia walked back into the room. They both looked at her in confusion.

"Umm, 'Miguel' who?"

"Your son. If you haven't decided on a name yet. Miguel. That's what Peter would've... well, it's a part of him that could be his" Talia said, looking dejected, her voice a flat tone.

Deaton just looked between them before looking back at Corinne, a questioning look in his eyes. Corinne didn't return his look, or even acknowledge that he was asking her what she thought without voicing it. She just took in the sight of the usually regal alpha, pulling a truly pitiful face, with an utterly crushed countenance radiating from her body language and scant.

"So, I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but shouldn't it be up to Peter if he's going to be naming his son?" Corinne had a good idea of what Talia _wasn't _saying said, but she decided to voice her question anyway. She knew she wouldn't get to be in this position, with this particular alpha in front of her, pulling _**that particular expression,**_ ever again. She was going to milk this situation for all the enjoyment she could.

Talia expression just got more pained, much to Corinne's enjoyment.

"As much as I love my little brother... As much as I would love for him to be a father and experience the joy of parent-hood... I... He's not quite ready for that at this particular point in his life. If he had finished college, if he'd been just a bit older, I might've been convinced that he would excel at being a father, he was good to watch over his neices and nephews as a babby sitter, and he still is. They adore him, and he's always had a way with kids, as much as he might deny it. But that is a far cry from the responsibility of having your own child, having someone who is your own flesh and blood, to care for, to provide for and raise as a father."

Talia was feeling like she was on the verge of tears, and Corinne could smell the scent of salty water coming from the alpha already.

"I know he would have picked 'Miguel' as a name. We've had a lot of 'hypothetical' conversations over the years concerning what we would do if we had kids or adopted. And because of my decision he might not get the opportunity to be a part of his son's life, so would you mind giving him a part of his father?"

For some reason, she was expecting this outcome, and she normally wouldn't feel guilty about cutting people out of her life for the express purpose of maintaining her cover, or making a clean break with someone during, or after a job. But something about the expression the alpha was pulling shot a pang of something into her conscience. Before she could reconsider what she was going to do she spoke.

"I didn't have a middle name picked out yet" she said in consolation to Talia, lifting her mood. After recieving a small smile of ackowledgment from the alpha, she turned to Deaton.

"So, Mathieu Miguel..."

"And what about a last name? Did you have one of those picked out, did you plan on him carrying his father's name, or will he be taking yours?" Deaton raised a brow in an amusemed fashion, his pen being held over the last box left to fill out on the forms.

"Travers. It'll be the name of the next identity I'm having prepared" Corinne bit out in reply. Now that two people already knew, she won't be expecting this next alias to last too long, but if she has to be a bit more discreet in her activities until Mathieu can take care of himself, then the 'Desert Wolf' will just have to be a bit more creative with her hits. Change her M.O. up a bit.

"Ok, so to finalise these papers..." Deaton muttered, filling in the last gaps of blank space on the forms. "'Mathieu Miguel Travers' is his full name, and his father is undetermined? Is that your final answer?"

"Lock it in, final answer" Corinne said. Then looking down at the newly name 'Mathieu' she grinned, "'Mathieu Miguel' huh? Well, M&Ms always were my favourite type of candy growing up anyways, and at least he'll have a good nick-name."

The next ten minutes were spent in relative quiet, but then Talia noticed the time on the wall-mounted clock approaching 2pm.

"I've got to leave now to pick up Derek and Laura. I'll speak with you again later, after I've dropped them off home." she said, turning from her nephew and his mum.

"What are you going to do about Peter?" Corinne asked, before Talia could fully leave the room, half out the door.

With a momentary pause, Talia turned back, "I'll handle him before I come back to talk to you later. Just rest for now, I know from experience how exhausted you're feeling right now, even with your abilities." and with that she turned back around and exited the building to go pick up her kids.

"If you wouldn't mind, I'll mind Mathieu while you get some sleep. I know that you're aware that we both know it'll do you some good, especially if Talia is going to have the conversation I expect she's going to have with you later" Deaton suggested, not waiting for her answer before plucking Mathieu out of her tired arms.  
He barely made any movement, and other than a slight widening of his mouth in a yawn, Mathieu didn't make any protest.

Corinne, seeing that her child wasn't in any form of distress, didn't bother correcting his actions and swiftly entered a deep sleep.

Deaton moved over to his office chair sitting in the corner of the room, readjusting his arms to more comfortably cradle the baby.

"You're a quiet one, aren't you? I thought you'd be much more of a handful going by the example of your cousins. Laura just couldn't sit still, every second she was awake she'd be moving, trying to climb out of people's arms or wriggling around in her blankets. Same with Cora, she was loud on top of all that. And Derek..." Deaton paused in his conspiritorial whispering to the new-born to contemplate on his experience with the afore-mentioned child, before shuddering at the thought of the sheer attitude that child had, "_He wasn't a very satisfied baby._"

Shaking off the weird feeling that suddenly ran down his spine from the very thought of _'those eyebrows' _that ran through his mind, he settled against the back of his chair, settled baby Mathieu in one arm, and started rearranging the paperwork on his desk. He may have just delivered a baby, but that didn't mean he didn't still have responsibilities as a Veterinarian.

'Hmm, that's weird, I don't recall there being this many clipboards on my desk' Deaton was wondering where all the extra paperwork appeared from when Mathieu started stirring in his arms.  
'I jinxed myself with my negative thoughts just now, didn't I? It must've been the eyebrows' he thought, while he looked down at Mathieu's face.  
'You're going to have a very expressive face when you're older Mathieu. I can already tell those eyebrows are going to be the detriment to many a self-conscious persons, but I don't think you are going to be as fluent in "eye-brow-ese" - or would it be "brow-lish" as we live in the west? - as a certain broody child'.

Dr. Alan Deaton was so caught up in idle thought about the terrible power of a certain black-haired child's eyebrows, and comparing them to those of the infant he was holding, that it took him a few seconds to notice that he was being watched.

"Wha-"

Deaton nearly dropped Mathieu in shock when he noticed that he was looking at him with a pair of wide open eyes, a wide open pair of eyes that he would swear until the day he died were a burning orange, almost as if the inside of his eyes were actually on fire, illuminating his surroundings. But that wasn't what surprised, or terrified him the most. No. It was the fact that those eyes seemed to be cataloguing everything they looked at with an intelligence that was frightening to be seen on the face of a new-born.

Deaton slowly stood up, maintaining eye-contact with Mathieu, with those truly disturbing eyes. Not taking his attention away from the baby, he moved to the adjacent room, approached the examination table and slowly lowered his arms and deposited Mathieu on the table.

It was only after he placed him on the table that the connection between them was broken, but it wasn't Deaton who looked away. Deaton kept his gaze on Mathieu in _horrified fascination _as he seemed to deem him suitably examined with those disturbing eyes, and started moving his newly opened eyes around the room, cataloguing everything he saw. Deaton spent the next few minutes just watching Mathieu methodically make his way around the room with his gaze, studying and dismissing each and every object in a subsequent pattern, nothing holding his attention for more than maybe ten seconds.

"How did I miss that little detail during testing?"

Deaton didn't realise that he said it out loud until that disturbing gaze flickered back to him, and he gulped. He honestly couldn't remember anything in his entire life that made him as uncomfortable as he was right then, than those eyes.

Not even his very first meeting as an emissary working for the Hale pack made him this uncomfortable. And that was back when he was a gangly, skinny, teenage druid that had just finished his apprenticeship under the previous emissary, and he had to tell Talia Hale's **Father **that the previous emissary had run off to restore the balance of a something-or-other in Europe, only to disappear. Never to be found again. Now, don't get him wrong, while Talia Hale is undoubtedly a remarkable example of one of the strongest and wisest alphas Alan Deaton has ever had the privilege of meeting in person, especially knowing she is one of the only alphas of her generation, who can fully transform. There was just something about Roger Hale, whether it was his countenance, or just his sheer _presence_, that made people staighten their backs, listen just that little bit more attentively, and willingly submit. He could see where Talia Hale got her personality from. The man barely had to do anything when in negotiations with other packs, or when warding off threats from his territory, to get his way. The only person who didn't seem to be affected by his very presence was Satomi. She still had an immense amount of respect for him, but she never showed it outwardly that his presence affected her. And that was probably only because she was old enough to see Roger Hale's father through his diaper stages.

Even considering all that, he would rather go back in time to that moment in his life, to face down Roger Hale and his Alpha-Red death glare, than spend another minute being looked at by _**these eyes.**_

Deaton was nearing the point of stress buildup that would cause him to have a panic attack when mercifully, Mathieu moved his gaze past him to look out into the hallway. Then something even more terrifying happened. _Sheer terror _replaced the analytical gleam in Mathieu's eyes. Wondering what had caught his attention, and caused the baby to feel fear, he went to turn and look when his entire body froze up.

**"Well, those aren't supposed to be active yet. Silly me, I forgot to make your abilities dormant. Hehehe, oh well, I'll get right to that, don't worry Jacob, I won't make you live through your infancy years. Knowing you, you'd find a way to kill yourself from the boredom, and that wouldn't be very amusing to watch, so back to sleep you go '**_**scary-eyes**_**'. I'll be back when you can crawl Jacob, sleep well baby-boy..."**

As a hand reached past Deaton's paralyzed figure to lightly tap Mathieu on the forehead with the pointer and middle-finger, Deaton noticed that the fingers on the hand were tipped with wickedly sharp-looking claws. The arm attached to that hand was dressed in an almost luminescent white sleeve that seemed to hang off the arm and almost touch the floor, like royalty from ancient China or Feudal Era Japan. He couldn't quite make out the other details of the person standing _Right. Behind. Him._ But he could just make out an animalistic snout or muzzle at head height in his peripheral vision.

Just as the two fingers on this strange figure's hand tapped Mathieu on the head, a bright flash of light emanated from the point of contact. The 'source of the light then seemed to sink into Mathieu's flesh down his forehead slowly spreading throughout the rest of his body, before fading away as if nothing had happened. Not seconds after being tapped on the forehead the _**BURNING FIRE**_ that had been present in Mathieu's eyes disappeared, along with the _terror_ that had made an appearance in his eyes. Then Mathieu seemingly fell asleep again.

"Who a-are you?" Daeton stuttered out.

**"Hmm. Nobody that you need to know. You can call me Inari though. **_**Not that you'll remember me when you wake up**_**"**

"What did you mean by '_those aren't meant to be active yet'_? How do you know this child? And why were you calling hi-"

**"Ssssshhhh... Sometimes too many questions isn't good for you Alan... So why don't you just forget what happened here, hey Doc? How's that sound? Good?"** Inari leaned in against him, and Deaton could feel the taut, muscled form that had completely pressed itself along his back, as well as the multiple fuzzy appendages that had coiled along the front of his torso and legs.

"What are y-"

**"SSSSHHHH, SLEEEEEP!" **Inari breathed out into his ear and across his face, not a second later Deaton was in a deep dream-state, his limp body being held up by the dimension travelling Kitsune. **"Now I'll just be taking those troublesome memories of yours, hey Dr. D? you certainly don't need them to cause trouble for my little bundle of angst over there do you?"**

"No... Inari..."

**"Hmm, what's this? A resilient one aren't you? Sadly your mental wards are barely passable compared to even some of the most poorly talented magic initiates I've come across, this will all be over soon doctor."**

Inari, still holding the surprisingly fit doctor against his physical body, raised the hand he had tapped Mathieu with, and put it against the doctor's forehead, right before he pulled his hand up and away. Deaton's head arched back as Inari's hand left his fore-head, a strange ribbon of blue light connecting his hand to the doctor's forehead. Inari raised his other hand up and cut the ribbon of light close to deaton's forehead with his claws, so just a little bit was left floating there, hiding the cut off ribbon in his sleeve.

**"You won't be needing that memory, but I can't leave this lovely ribbon of yours frayed and broken can I? Poor Doc, here, have this memory instead. You'll find Mathieu to be a very ordinary young boy in your examination, there's nothing extraordinary about him is there? Nope, Mathieu is just a regular quiet, peaceful baby."**

With that, his hand reappeared from his sleeve with a brand new ribbon of bright blue light. He held it up to Deaton's forehead and joined it to the frayed off end of the original ribbon of light. He snapped his fingers and the new ribbon fused perfectly to the other, before the entire length of 'ribbon' slowly disappeared back into Deaton's forehead.

**"Aaaannnd my job is done" **

Inari slowly lifted Doctor Deaton into a bridal carry, catching a quick feel in the process of moving his hand down the back to his legs, before he paused and moved his hand back up. Stopping with his hand firmly groping the poor asleep doctors butt**, "damn, when do you get the time to work on this?" **he said to the still asleep doctor, looking at his sleeping face as he fondled the surprisingly perky backside of the sleeping man as if expecting an answer.

When Deaton didn't wake up and answer Inari, he just shrugged it off and took him back into the other room, depositing him on his office chair and draping the upper half of his body over his desk. He made his way back to the second examination room to look over the sleeping form of 'Mathieu'.

**"Sweet dreams Mathieu"**

Inari leaned down to kiss Jacob on the forehead, a little spark leaving his lips, before 'Mathieu's' face relaxed further into his sleep and a smile formed on his face. He leaned back to get one last look at Jacob's new body before leaving.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

**"He was right... Those are going to be some seriously expressive brows"**

**A/N****: So, that's a wrap on Chapter 1... And I didn't even proof read it... So it is 100% authentic and unedited (which makes is 100% horrible)...**  
**Hope you enjoyed it :)**

**Like I said last time, please feel free to comment on your initial impression, the pacing (whether it feels too fast or slow), and just general feedback. I know the pacing in this was a lot different to the prologue, but that was because during the first half of the prologue he was literally tripping out on drugs, so I just wrote everything that popped into my head, and then edited the most coherent bits so they weren't as clear, cause we couldn't have no sanity for poor Jacob.**

**Speaking of sanity, don't hold me accountable for anything Inari does, he is literally an insane **_**dimension-travelling-fox**_** that does what he wants, I have no control over his actions.**

**Alright, before I sign off, to let the readers who are seriously dedicated enough to read my horrible Author's Notes, I'm not sure how long It will take me to get the next chapter up. Considering it took about 20 hours spread out over two weeks to write the previous chapter, I don't really have a set date that I'm expecting to post the next chapter. I'm also going to be busy for the next two weeks cause I'm starting at a new job, then immediately after that I'll be going on VACATION! I won't have access to my laptop, so I'll be writing up as many drafts for future chapters over my break as possible whilst still trying to relax, then I'll try type it up and get it posted as soon as I get back. I'll also finish editing the first chapter of my other Fic after work (I'll cram it in there between my sleeping periods), and I'll be posting that soon as well. It will literally be almost completely character building and maybe a short prologue, which will make a lot more sense when you read the title, but meh, that's later, and I just did an all-nighter typing this S $% up... I'm tired and rambling, sorry, have a nice day/night where ever you are... **

**Ciao.**


	3. Update Notice

Update Notice

**Chapter Summary****:**

_It's just an __**A/N... **__Sorry_

Hey guys. Sorry to get hopes up that this was a chapter update...

I'm just writing to let people know that this particular story will be on hiatus until the 7th of January. I will still be working on the story over my break, but it will be on paper, as I won't have my laptop, or anywhere to plug it in where I'm going.

I had planned on posting chapter 2 a couple of days ago... But it's only half done, my beta reader is busy writing their own stories, and I honestly got distracted writing my Star Wars Fic (The introduction/prologue for that fic is over 10,000 words already, and I haven't finished it yet!) . So I will be posting it on the 8th of January... Along with any other chapters I will have finished by then.

I've got plans for the next 2 weeks involving sorting out my personal life, and organising a new car before I go back to work. (Because having your car stolen from the front of your house in the middle of the night, on the second last day of work for the year, is honestly the GREATEST feeling ever...)

Anyway, I hope all those that see this have a good holiday period, I'll see you guys next year.


End file.
